Xenopath (36 page)

"I don't
know. But I guess you're going to tell me, right?"

Breitenbach
smiled. "Over a hundred thousand years ago," he said, "the
race known as the Hortavans came to Mallory. They were fleeing their
home planet, which had been engulfed in a supernova. They'd had
plenty of time to prepare their exodus—their ship contained all
their population."

Vaughan was
about to say something—along the lines that the ship had hardly
seemed
that
big—but Breitenbach went on. "It wasn't
their intention to remain on Mallory: it was supposed to be merely an
exploratory stop-over. The ship encountered difficulties when coming
down, and crash-landed in the valley north of here. The majority of
the Hortavans were killed in the accident. Only a few hundred
thousand survived."

"The
experts claimed they were extinct," Vaughan said, "that
Mallory wasn't habitable." Breitenbach inclined his head. "That
is so. The corporeal Hortavans, those charged with guardianship of
the crystals, succumbed to the malign viruses of Mallory—but
not before partially discharging their duties."

"Which
were?"

"The
corporeal Hortavans took from the ship the crystals and distributed
them around the southern continent. They almost accomplished this
task, but succumbed to disease before they could unload the last
chamber."

"The last
chamber?" Vaughan said. "The crystals I brought here?"

The radical
nodded. "The last of the stored Hortavans," he said.

Vaughan laughed,
a nervous reaction to his inability to comprehend what Breitenbach
was telling him, to piece together the disparate clues. "I don't
understand. What are the crystals?"

The radical
raised his mug. "Each faceted crystal, Vaughan, contains the
identities of Hortavan individuals."

Vaughan sat back
and raised his head to the stars. "The identities? I don't—"

"Perhaps
'identities' is the wrong term. They contain the very essences of
Hortavan individuals. They are an extremely ancient and advanced
race. They had long since discovered how to record themselves, their
very essences. When the supernova came, they were ready. Millions of
individuals were stored in the matrix of the crystals for the long
voyage to a new, safer world. Some remained corporeal, to crew the
ship and facilitate the recorded Hortavans' eventual rebirth."

"Jesus
Christ," Vaughan whispered.

"Millions
perished in the crash-landing, when the crystals were destroyed. A
few thousand survived in the crystals. The corporeal Hortavans did
their best to disseminate their fellows, before death overcame them."

Vaughan
interrupted, "The pachyderms? The Hortavans are the pachyderms,
right? Or rather, some of the pachyderms are?"

Breitenbach
smiled. "The Hortavans are not an evil race, Vaughan. They would
not take over a species and obliterate their identities. They live in
the minds of the pachyderms as separate entities, content to
experience existence but, more importantly, to contemplate the
eternal verities of life."

Vaughan thought
back to what the radical had said. "The dying bull—you
said it communicated with you?"

Breitenbach
fixed Vaughan with a suddenly intense gaze. "It communicated
with me—it also did more than that. The Hortavan that existed
within the pachyderm's dying sensorium...
transferred
itself
into mine. I knew instantly that something had happened. I felt
euphoric, though I was ignorant as to the reason why. That knowledge
came only days later, when the Hortavan had mastered my thoughts,
ideas, and language, and was able to communicate... I thought at
first I was going mad—but the Hortavan was compassionate. He
communicated only briefly, and reassured me that I was not mad, that
its intent was not evil, that it was alive in me, but would not
reveal itself if that was what I wished. I overcame my fear, and over
the years came to understand the alien, or rather the xenopath, as I
called it, and its race."

Vaughan sat
back, staring at Breitenbach. "And when Sheering found out about
the pachyderms?"

"He had
scientists studying the animals, of course. They came upon the truth
of the Hortavan mind-transference and mind-reading abilities. They
discovered that the transfer could not be effected if the potential
subject was mind-shielded, which was why the Scheering's governing
council legislated that every citizen of the planet should be
shielded, ostensibly to safeguard against telepaths from Earth intent
on stealing vital Mallorian trade secrets. By that time I'd acquired
a mind-shield, in case a Scheering telepath read of my secret."

Vaughan said,
"And then Scheering instituted the cull, to get rid of the
evidence before Eco-Col learned the truth and the colonial
authorities closed the planet down?"

Breitenbach
nodded. "I tried to warn Eco-Col. A Mallorian informer told
Scheering, and from that date I have been a wanted man. I co-ordinate
resistance from various locations in the mountains, relying on cells
of so-called radicals to spread the word."

Vaughan
considered Breitenbach's story, then said, "You said Kormier
found out the same way as you did?"

Breitenbach
nodded. "He was monitoring a cull two hundred kilometres north
of here, when he came upon a dying pachyderm. It communicated with
him, and he cut out his mind-shield and allowed the Hortavan to
transfer itself into his mind." Breitenbach paused, then went
on, "Then he made a big mistake. He informed his superior here
on Mallory that the cull should cease, little realising that the
authorities already knew about the Hortavans and the pachyderms. He
became a liability to Scheering, and when he returned to Earth..."

Vaughan closed
his eyes. "And the slaughter continues."

"The
Hortavans are becoming adept at evading the militia,"
Breitenbach said, "thanks to their mind-guests." He paused
and smiled, finishing his whisky. "It is late. We have an early
start in the morning."

Vaughan said,
"The crystals?"

"Did you
notice the pachyderms heading this way? They were being led by their
mind-guests. In the morning we will witness the transference."

Vaughan drained
the alcohol, his senses numbed by its effect, and by what Breitenbach
had told him.

The radical
showed him to a beehive mound, equipped with a sleeping mat and a
thermal cover.

Breitenbach bade
him goodnight, and Vaughan lay in the confined space, staring up at a
patch of stars which showed through the overhead flue. He was awake
for a long time, his head awash with dizzying images, before the
alcohol eased him into sleep.

TRANSFERENCE

Vaughan was
awoken by bright sunlight and he sat upright suddenly, wondering if
the dialogue with Breitenbach the night before had been nothing but a
dream.

He struggled
through the narrow aperture of the mound. Breitenbach was standing
across the avenue, as large as life, shrugging himself into his
tattered thermal jacket.

"I trust
you slept well?"

Vaughan laughed.
"I think the whisky helped."

They breakfasted
on local fruit and water, sitting around the dead embers of the fire
as the sun rose over the peaks and warmed the valley.

Later,
Breitenbach led the way through the corridor to the ledge where the
night before they had positioned the Hortavan gemstones. Vaughan
emerged blinking into the sudden wash of sunlight, staring along the
winding track to where it vanished between distant peaks and
wondering what exactly to expect.

"When are
they due?" he asked. He leaned against the cold bulk of the
mountainside and inclined his face towards the warmth of Eta
Ophiuchi. "They'll be here shortly," Breitenbach said with
certainty.

Vaughan stared
at the old man. "I was wondering last night... but I didn't want
to ask—"

"Go on."

Vaughan looked
into the oldster's eyes. "Are you aware of the Hortavan in your
head?" he asked. "I mean, what is it like, sharing...
yourself
with a wholly alien being?"

Breitenbach
smiled. "Most of the time I am unaware of the Hortavan's
presence. It's content to abide in my consciousness, contemplating
its own thoughts without my knowledge. Occasionally it will
communicate with me—it learned our language very quickly—and
I with it."

"That must
be strange."

Breitenbach
smiled again. "Voices in the head, Mr Vaughan. No stranger than
being a telepath, privy to the thoughts of others. Except, in my
case, those thoughts can reciprocate. The alien in here—"
he touched his temple, "has eased the loneliness of my existence
these past five years."

"If it
wished," Vaughan began tentatively, "it could assume
control of you, dictate your thoughts?"

"I assume
that that would be entirely possible," Breitenbach said. "There
have been times, when I have been ill or injured, when the Hortavan
has assumed control and eased me through, but in the normal course of
events, the alien is content merely to exist."

Vaughan thought
about it, then gestured at the crystals lodged in the cliff face.
"Then why don't they remain in the stones?" he asked. "Why
do they risk becoming the mind-parasites of creatures whose lives are
under threat?"

"Think of
the crystals as cold sleep facilities," Breitenbach replied.
"The stored Hortavans are not conscious, but are suspended
between life and death. The crystals are perishable, or rather they
can sustain the identity matrices of the Hortavans for only so long.
That period is coming to an end. Already, many of the crystals have
corrupted; many lives have been lost. Of course there is a danger in
transferring the remaining Hortavans to the pachyderms, but my
guest—" again he gestured to his temple, "thought it
the lesser of the two evils to effect the transfer. The southern
range is riddled with subterranean caves where the Hortavans can take
refuge in times of crisis."

Vaughan looked
along the track to the snow-clad peaks scintillating in the morning
sun. He thought of the military patrol he had seen yesterday, and the
procession of pachyderms crossing the last valley. What if the
militia had happened upon them?

"There must
be a way to stop the slaughter," he said.

Breitenbach
smiled. "We have tried, and we are trying, and we will try, my
friend. We have informed Eco-Col, but they're conservative and take
our claims lightly. We had hoped that Professor Travers's report
might persuade them."

"Have you
gone to the authorities on Earth?"

"We've
tried everything. What you fail to realise is how powerful Gustave
Scheering is, how much control he has of governments and colonial
representatives. He is a ruthless multi-millionaire and controls many
top politicians and colonial representatives."

Vaughan
considered. "If Scheering himself could be persuaded... If he
could become the unwitting host of a Hortavan, then surely—"

Breitenbach laid
a hand on Vaughan's shoulder. "Do you think we haven't thought
of that, my friend? Kormier tried to get to Scheering, with the
express intent of transferring his Hortavan guest. He was not the
first to try." Breitenbach made a gesture of hopelessness.
"Scheering is aware of the danger. He is paranoid about
security. He keeps himself surrounded by bodyguards at all times."
He stopped and looked along the length of the track. His sudden smile
was as radiant as the sun. "At last," he murmured.

Vaughan turned.

In the distance
he saw the giant form of a Grayson's pachyderm round the bend in the
track, pause and raise its trunk in what could have been interpreted
as a bellow of triumph. It advanced, taking great, slow loping
strides as if wading through quicksand. Behind it, in procession,
came other pachyderms. Soon the length of the track was filled with
the creatures, trunk to tail.

The leading bull
paused fifty metres before where Vaughan and Breitenbach stood. It
raised its trunk and caressed the cliff face—and Vaughan
realised that it had touched not the rock but the first of the inset
crystals.

Breitenbach
said, "The bull is already host to a Hortavan. It is greeting
its people."

"And the
other pachyderms?" Vaughan began.

"Watch,"
Breitenbach said.

The second
pachyderm in line drew level with the first crystal, and something
happened so swift and fleeting that Vaughan thought it a trick of his
eyes, and then wondered if anything had happened at all.

He watched, more
closely, as the third animal drew alongside the crystal.

An instantaneous
while light pulsed from the embedded stone, hit the pachyderm's
massive brow and dissipated. It was over in a fraction of a second;
had he blinked, he would have missed the miraculous event of the
transference.

As each animal
drew alongside the recess, the crystal discharged an alien
consciousness and the pachyderms proceeded, plodding stoically after
their leader, as if nothing at all had occurred.

"How many
alien minds does one crystal contain?" Vaughan asked.

"Perhaps a
hundred," Breitenbach replied. "Though some crystals have
corrupted over time, and lost many of their stored identities."

Vaughan wanted
to laugh aloud at the improbability of what he was witnessing, the
sheer miracle of the transfer, and at the same time the wonder of the
racial salvation it represented.

By now the first
bull had reached the mouth of the corridor. It paused, reached out
its short trunk to Breitenbach and touched the old man on the
forehead. Breitenbach closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and
smiled in delight.

As the bull
loped past, easing its way into the corridor, Breitenbach said, "It
thanks you for risking your life to ensure the renewed existence of
its fellows."